<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292</id><updated>2011-07-08T09:18:16.550-05:00</updated><category term='mommy-blog'/><category term='exercise'/><category term='handbags'/><category term='knitting'/><category term='Unclutter'/><category term='family'/><category term='about me'/><category term='lists'/><category term='Decluttering'/><category term='in-laws'/><category term='laugh'/><category term='hubby'/><category term='funny blogs'/><title type='text'>Costumista</title><subtitle type='html'>Musings of an "Artsy Type"</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>30</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-158963905433783610</id><published>2010-08-08T17:48:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-08T18:16:34.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Decluttering</title><content type='html'>I'm decluttering a bag of Chips right now. Yes, I'm decluttering them, not just eating them! It seems our family gets to the bottom of a food-package and loses interest in it with about one and half servings left, so we end up with a shelf full of mostly-finished bags of chips and boxes of Cereal and packages of cookies. And yes, I help perpetuate that by going ahead and buying a new bag/box/package before the first one is gone, so we end up opening a new package and eating that down to about one and a half servings, rinse and repeat...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got back from a 3 week vacation in a beach-house which had just enough sheets/towels/for one per person/bed, and just enough multipurpose pots, pans, dishes and utensils to serve the average beach-house vacationer's temporary needs. We were never without what we needed to cook a dinner for 20 (yes 20!) people, but we never had multiple, say, baking pans to choose from for that homemade Lasagne ( thanks mom, that was awesome!). So we never were without and yet the cabinets!! They had SO MUCH ROOM!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I return from said amazing and yummy beach-house vacation and my first morning waking up in my home, I felt so much heavier- and not because of the awesome food, but because we just have so much stuff! Ugh! It was making me angry and depressed just sitting at my desk, knowing that all that Stuff was looming around me! I feel like I'm always getting rid of multiple garbage bags worth of Stuff and yet I really don't remember me buying any of it! ( It's called *Clearance-shopping-Stuff-Loving-Mother-In-Law-Syndrome, BTW) 99% of our furniture was handed-down or "inherited" from other family member(s) (See above *). We really don't buy Stuff!! I have more than I want already!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I have been picking little areas of the house and decluttering them. I'm aiming for two little areas a day until I go back to work on Wednesday ( and The Girl goes back to school, *Sniff, Blubber*). But I have a creeping feeling I could stay busy with Decluttering for the rest of my month, no-Year, no- LIFE! ugh. I need a shower just to declutter the ideas in my head now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.- Two posts! In One Week! I'm patting me on the back now!! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-158963905433783610?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/158963905433783610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=158963905433783610' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/158963905433783610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/158963905433783610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2010/08/decluttering.html' title='Decluttering'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-310537596467349558</id><published>2010-08-05T20:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T20:23:28.892-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Underacheivers Unite!!</title><content type='html'>So.  In my spare time, I read some Blogs.  Apparently I read more Blogs than the average mom- at least according to my older sister who is mom to three boys ages 3-10.  While I'm certain I probably read more blogs than her, I just want to point out that I am a mom to one calm and precocious almost-six-year-old girl.  I think I can safely say that I have a few more hours to devote to "leisure" than she does just in general.  So yeah.  I guess I read &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; of Blogs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was doing my customary Blog-reading just now and it occurred to me.  These people post at least once or twice a week- sometimes more- on their blogs.  Right now I'm doing good to get one Blog posted per year.  So, I decided that what the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt; is missing is a blog by an underachiever!  Like me!  Isn't this exciting that I posted this year?!  So, though I haven't come here often, I still remember that this Blog exists- and I usually even remember my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;login&lt;/span&gt; info for my account.  Aren't you proud of me?!  And no, there may not be &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; of pretty pictures, or any format changes in the last year or two, but that's what you should love about this blog.  You can come back here 364 days a year and SEE THE EXACT SAME THING!  Isn't that comforting in this crazy changing world of economies and natural disasters?  I thought so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're Welcome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-310537596467349558?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/310537596467349558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=310537596467349558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/310537596467349558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/310537596467349558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2010/08/underacheivers-unite.html' title='Underacheivers Unite!!'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-94624373471844194</id><published>2009-08-20T13:03:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T13:08:51.655-05:00</updated><title type='text'>IT BURNS!! IT BURNS!!!</title><content type='html'>The Following ( PG, or PG 13 if you're really opposed to viewing close-up shots of butts in Pants) video should be viewed with caution- make sure you have some saline solution nearby to clean your eyes with afterwards! There's no antidote for the permanent image burned on your brain though...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JyYhdY-A_Hs&amp;amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JyYhdY-A_Hs&amp;amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all I am going to say here is "WHY GOD, WHY?!?!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-94624373471844194?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/94624373471844194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=94624373471844194' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/94624373471844194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/94624373471844194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/08/it-burns-it-burns.html' title='IT BURNS!! IT BURNS!!!'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-422776758449484046</id><published>2009-08-17T09:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T10:04:43.303-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And so it begins.</title><content type='html'>Well, it's official- The Girl is a Kindergartener and I am feeling a little lonely.  ( boo hoo)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First day: Awoke with enthusiam, took traditional "first day of Kindergarten" pictures, drove her to school, sat forlorn in the house for 6 hours, Picked her up from school and went for cookies and Hot Chocolate at Grandma's house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second Day: Phone call from Teacher at about 1:3o detailing all the ways my daughter isn't following directions= "Talkin' To" for the girl.  Then call from Bus driver telling me she is on the wrong bus and where should they drop her off.  Multiple heart attacks imagining all the ways that could have gone wrong, ending in overzealous hugging when finally reunited.  Multiple White Russians after 8pm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third day: Discovered that the Bus Fiasco was partially The Girl's Fault.  She saw a kid from Recess in line for another bus and decided to ride the bus with that girl.  My shouldahadaV8 moment: realizing I probably should have told her that there is only ONE bus that will bring you to the correct bus-stop, where mommy will be waiting to give you LOTS OF CANDY!!! LOTS, I SAY!!!  I did actually leave the house during the day though- I went to see Harry Potter 6 again. I figured if I'm going to be alone I may as well make it count!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weekend was short- at least it seemed that way, and we just tried to relax and spend as much time together as possible while also letting Daddy write his Dissertation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was the Girl's first ever "Monday Morning."  She bucked up pretty quickly though and was off to school as scheduled.  I went and worked out and now plan on doing some cleaning and a Grocery Store trip before meeting the bus again.  Of course, I have a long list of projects in my head that have been waiting for "Someday when the Girl is in School" so I hope to be in progress on any number of those by the end of the week.  And I also plan to be writing more often, so I hope to "see" you all here again soon!  Now please excuse me while I skip around the empty house singing loudly in attempt to make myself accept that MY ONLY CHILD IS IN SCHOOL FOR THE NEXT 12 YEARS!  LALALALAALALALALALAALAAAAAA!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-422776758449484046?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/422776758449484046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=422776758449484046' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/422776758449484046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/422776758449484046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/08/and-so-it-begins.html' title='And so it begins.'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-4687209050871576758</id><published>2009-04-19T09:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T09:47:53.535-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things you never thought to wonder</title><content type='html'>Squirrel Poop is Green- like grass.  Ew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now on to what I have been up to:&lt;br /&gt;I have been on a bender lately.  Spring Cleaning season just happened to coincide with a chunk of time off for me this year so, for the first time in three years I have gotten the clutter in every part of the house under control all at once.  I have spent the last couple of weeks de-cluttering and deep cleaning every room in this house.  Every room except Hubby's "Study"- I'm no delusional masochist!  We also got a new Vacuum a few weeks ago when I realized that the cordless 12 volt stick vac was kicking my big vacuum's butt.  It was time to retire that poor thing- 13 years is alot of heavy abuse for one little Eureka.  So, armed with my new rockin' Vacuum, I have cleaned and cleaned and I finally feel like I own my possessions instead of my posessions owning me.  We ended up donating 7 bags of clothing/shoes/handbags and a truck-bed full of other Household Items to Goodwill.  Even our Garage got the spring cleaning treatment- which is when I learned what color Squirrel poop is.  Luckily, I did not have any&lt;br /&gt;close encounters with it (unlike Hubby). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the real challenge is going to be keeping it this way.  eeek!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-4687209050871576758?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/4687209050871576758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=4687209050871576758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/4687209050871576758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/4687209050871576758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/04/things-you-never-thought-to-wonder.html' title='Things you never thought to wonder'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-9082526944660321483</id><published>2009-04-11T17:56:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T20:14:29.551-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Eagle-eye</title><content type='html'>Holy-crap.  This video is very cool- it is an eagle's eye view of flying.  And I REALLY mean that it's the view as seen FROM THE EAGLE'S BACK.  If you've ever wanted to know what a bird sees from up there, have a look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/APViUODDhT0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;amp;color2=0xcd311b"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/APViUODDhT0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;amp;color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very Cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-9082526944660321483?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/9082526944660321483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=9082526944660321483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/9082526944660321483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/9082526944660321483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/04/eagle-eye.html' title='Eagle-eye'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-1961645575694047447</id><published>2009-04-05T22:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T22:57:57.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rosemary Triscuits</title><content type='html'>Me: (to Hubby) These things have too much dang seasoning on them!!  If they had just put some actual rosemary in a regular triscuit, they'd be good!  Instead, it's like a crap-load of "seasoning powder" with a little bit of triscuit thrown in!  These suck!!! URGH!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby:  ( giving me that "you is ca-ray-zay" look) You seem really worked up about this.  (Mental Subtext: Please don't hurt me I didn't make the triscuits)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I'm not really worked up, I'm just annoyed!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby:  Well, you sound really worked up about it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  I always sound "really worked up" about things that I'm only annoyed about- you should know that by now (mental subtext: now that we're in our 12 year of marriage and 14th year of kissing each other)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby: ....  ( Imagined mental subtext: "Okay, I'm walking away now because you are scary")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am scary-sounding sometimes about things I'm really only annoyed about.  I have been told this since approximately 6th grade when a surprisingly astute fellow-sixth-grader told me I often sounded angry when I said things, so maybe I should watch that.  I don't know when I sound overly-angry.  I only know I'm doing it when Hubby gives me that Look.  Oh well, for the record, I DO try!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-1961645575694047447?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/1961645575694047447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=1961645575694047447' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/1961645575694047447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/1961645575694047447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/04/rosemary-triscuits.html' title='Rosemary Triscuits'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-5420348792660653251</id><published>2009-04-01T23:30:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T23:37:02.940-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tiny Art Director</title><content type='html'>I just ran across this website "Tiny Art Director"  http://tinyartdirector.blogspot.com/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have ever spent any time with a child at all, and especially one who is four years old or younger, you will understand.  Apparently this a site run by an artist who posts his daughter's "Commissions" and her reaction to them.  By the time I got to the Poo-poo airplane, I was laughing out loud.  And yes, I should be in bed by now, but that has nothing to do with it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-5420348792660653251?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/5420348792660653251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=5420348792660653251' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/5420348792660653251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/5420348792660653251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/04/tiny-art-director.html' title='Tiny Art Director'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-4851839077693583706</id><published>2009-03-30T20:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T20:56:22.554-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8XDxhDbtDak&amp;amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8XDxhDbtDak&amp;amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a video for a song called "It's Amazing" by &lt;a href="http://www.jem-music.net/"&gt;Jem&lt;/a&gt;.  At first I watched it because her name is Jem- Helloooo!  GEM??  I wanted to see if she was a worthy Namesake, and ended up inspired.  My Favorite Lyric is " ...nothing can compare to deserving your Dream."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-4851839077693583706?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/4851839077693583706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=4851839077693583706' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/4851839077693583706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/4851839077693583706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/03/here-is-video-for-song-called-its.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-5696241712795881207</id><published>2009-03-24T08:49:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T09:11:35.152-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Shake and Bake... and I helped!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ErFzEiK16w0/ScjqCgrimUI/AAAAAAAAAB8/aLJkzyXMZ0U/s1600-h/P3220094.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ErFzEiK16w0/ScjqCgrimUI/AAAAAAAAAB8/aLJkzyXMZ0U/s320/P3220094.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316756688964065602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather here has been more warm than cold lately and this has prompted me to want to let girl go bump around in the yard more-  only problem is that we have a not-so-private or attractive chain-link fence around our yard, and it's just off a busy street with some foot-traffic.  Also, I realized that once the girl gets out there she has only a couple of choices of things to do- play with a ball or, um, pick up sticks??  So- inspired to give her something to wrap her imagination around- Hubby and I decided to build a playhouse for her this past weekend.  We got the Frame together Sunday, and she already spent three hours playing outside with the neighbor kids yesterday.  I also used the opportunity to learn how to wield a circular saw.  (And no, I didn't hurt anyone doing it!)  Girl and I primed the frame and wall-boards yesterday, breaking in her overalls with some respectable splotches of Primer, and Hubby stayed out after dark to put the walls on.  It is progressing nicely, and I am pretty excited to get it done.  I would guess that it won't really get done until this coming sunday, but we are sticking with it- that's the one thing Hubby and I love- a good building project.  So hopefully I will have finished pictures to post by next week.  In the meantime, here is a pic of where we were as of Sunday evening!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-5696241712795881207?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/5696241712795881207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=5696241712795881207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/5696241712795881207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/5696241712795881207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/03/its-shake-and-bake-and-i-helped.html' title='It&apos;s Shake and Bake... and I helped!!'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ErFzEiK16w0/ScjqCgrimUI/AAAAAAAAAB8/aLJkzyXMZ0U/s72-c/P3220094.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-8245042974260273183</id><published>2009-03-22T08:02:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T08:02:47.536-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Snuggie and me, we can climb up a tree!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;  I love my Snuggie!!  It was actually a Valentine&amp;#39;s present from the Hubby, but I was so happy to get one!  My four-year-old daughter immediately exclaimed &amp;quot;...and you&amp;#39;ll have the freedom to use your arms!!&amp;quot;  I think she might watch a bit too much television...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="clear:both; margin: 0; padding: 0; margin-top:10px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px;" class="plinky_badge_rid:6994"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/mini/reroute/6994"&gt;    &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/badge?id=6994" style="border: 0; padding-right: 4px; vertical-align: middle;" alt="" title="" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-8245042974260273183?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/8245042974260273183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=8245042974260273183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/8245042974260273183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/8245042974260273183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-snuggie-and-me-we-can-climb-up-tree.html' title='My Snuggie and me, we can climb up a tree!'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-7754094328529275246</id><published>2009-03-20T09:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T09:53:17.900-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Try try again</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was the Hubby's birthday.  He is so old!  (I can say that because I'm actually two years older) so I tried to actually make a birthday cake from scratch.  Technically it was a bunch of little cakes- strawberry shortcakes to be exact.  I have always claimed to love baking (more than cooking) and yet never really bother with it anymore.  More than anything lately, I find myself reading websites with great cooking and baking and creative ideas but not ever getting around to actually doing any of it.  I always blame my weird and unpredictable work schedule for this lack of action, but the truth is, I think, that I have just plain gotten lazy.  I remember spending whole days in my teenage years in my room hot-gluing fabric to those little green plastic berry-baskets from the supermarket.  I made scrapbook style photo albums (of course that was before you could just store digital images on your computer, and before someone decided that "Scrapbooking" was a hobby to be marketed) which I still have and look through from time to time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did pretty good with the shortcakes, despite putting an extra egg-white into the dough ( a real-life reminder to read any new recipe thoroughly before beginning).  They weren't very puffy, but they tasted fine, especially once I heaped the strawberries and real whipped cream on them, but I am still going to try again today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also will start carving out time in my day to spend "in my Workroom."  I seem to have developed this unneccessary "rule" that I should only create things that have a use.  It's not a terrible rule, but I think its keeping me from just going in there and puttering around- and that is keeping me from the process that makes for the best discoveries.  So, onward and upward- to the workroom, that is!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-7754094328529275246?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/7754094328529275246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=7754094328529275246' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/7754094328529275246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/7754094328529275246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/03/try-try-again.html' title='Try try again'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-4734511193758073880</id><published>2009-02-13T17:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T17:20:39.355-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Is...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;When Children Ages 4-8 were asked What Love Is&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Courtesy of &lt;a href="http://www.spiritdaily.com/childrenlove.htm"&gt;Spirit Daily&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rebecca - age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.&lt;br /&gt;You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.'&lt;br /&gt;Billy - age 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karl - age 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chrissy - age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Love is what makes you smile when you're tired.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Terri - age 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Danny - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily - age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nikka - age 6&lt;br /&gt;(we need a few million more Nikka's on this planet)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noelle - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tommy - age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cindy - age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'My mommy loves me more than anybody&lt;br /&gt;You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clare - age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elaine-age 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chris - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day..'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary Ann - age 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lauren - age 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.' (what an image)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karen - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it But if you mean it, you should say it a lot.. People forget.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jessica - age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the final one&lt;/b&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, 'Nothing, I just helped him cry'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Valentines Day to everyone!  I hope you spend it telling those you love how much they mean to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amanda&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-4734511193758073880?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/4734511193758073880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=4734511193758073880' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/4734511193758073880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/4734511193758073880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/02/love-is.html' title='Love Is...'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-7622705921431246733</id><published>2009-01-31T18:35:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T18:35:16.405-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I gave up on "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius"</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;  &lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51H215HG0ML._SS250_.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0; padding: 0 0 10px 0;"&gt;  I stopped reading it on purpose- and it may be the only book I&amp;#39;ve ever started reading which I consciously chose not to finish  I didn&amp;#39;t think it was engaging at all, and as a result the title made me angry whenever I picked it up- like &amp;quot;HA HA! SUCKER!&amp;quot;  I wanted it to at least be sarcastic or funny or, oh... I don&amp;#39;t know... ACTUALLY GOOD??&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="clear:both; margin: 0; padding: 0; margin-top:10px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px;" class="plinky_badge_rid:1683"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/mini/reroute/1683"&gt;    &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/badge?id=1683" style="border: 0; padding-right: 4px; vertical-align: middle;" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-7622705921431246733?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/7622705921431246733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=7622705921431246733' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/7622705921431246733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/7622705921431246733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/01/why-i-gave-up-on-heartbreaking-work-of.html' title='Why I gave up on &amp;quot;A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius&amp;quot;'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-985833349575563968</id><published>2009-01-30T18:31:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T18:31:30.971-06:00</updated><title type='text'>If I had easy access to a helicopter, I'd fly to Chicago this weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;  &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/map?maptype=map&amp;sensor=false&amp;key=ABQIAAAAz4I5iDWfLKXRJqwY_lxrMRSDGNZDWabFcZHPH02nr_QeuITw5hT0k3Ux-ovu3Vn8nZoGpAsaKOTz7Q&amp;center=41.879535,-87.624333&amp;zoom=11&amp;size=410x300" width="410" height="300" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0; padding: 0 0 10px 0;"&gt;  I have alot of friends there whom I haven&amp;#39;t seen in ages, yet I live only hours away. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="clear:both; margin: 0; padding: 0; margin-top:10px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px;" class="plinky_badge_rid:1587"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/mini/reroute/1587"&gt;    &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/badge?id=1587" style="border: 0; padding-right: 4px; vertical-align: middle;" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-985833349575563968?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/985833349575563968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=985833349575563968' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/985833349575563968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/985833349575563968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/01/if-i-had-easy-access-to-helicopter-i.html' title='If I had easy access to a helicopter, I&amp;#39;d fly to Chicago this weekend'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-2963179001234771205</id><published>2009-01-27T13:49:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T13:49:39.181-06:00</updated><title type='text'>If I were a superhero, I would certainly wear tights</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;  My Superhero name would be Supermom.  I would be able to make things happen just by thinking about them.  I could get the dishes and laundry done just by seeing the clean dishes in the cabinets and the clean laundry folded in the drawers in my mind.  I could make a gourmet meal just by seeing the food on the plate.  The only catch would be that I would have to wear a special mind-wave blocking hat at all times, removing it only when I wanted to use my powers- this hat would prevent all the worrying I do from coming true by the power of thought.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="clear:both; margin: 0; padding: 0; margin-top:10px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px;" class="plinky_badge_rid:1126"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/mini/reroute/1126"&gt;    &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/badge?id=1126" style="border: 0; padding-right: 4px; vertical-align: middle;" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-2963179001234771205?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/2963179001234771205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=2963179001234771205' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/2963179001234771205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/2963179001234771205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/01/if-i-were-superhero-i-would-certainly.html' title='If I were a superhero, I would certainly wear tights'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-3149716527161536220</id><published>2009-01-27T09:04:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T09:52:22.903-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lust</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sundancecatalog.com/mgen/catalog/test.ms?args=%2236906%7CRECYCLED+PICKLE+BARREL+BED%7C.jpg%22&amp;amp;is=336,336,0xffffff"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 336px; height: 336px;" src="http://www.sundancecatalog.com/mgen/catalog/test.ms?args=%2236906%7CRECYCLED+PICKLE+BARREL+BED%7C.jpg%22&amp;amp;is=336,336,0xffffff" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am currently lusting after this Reclaimed-Wood bed from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Sundance&lt;/span&gt; Catalog.  It showed up on one or two of my favorite design blogs a week or so ago, and I love it like I have loved no other bed before.  We don't have anything near a bedroom set, and that means no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;headboard&lt;/span&gt; whatsoever- just our mattress on a bed-frame.  I don't know why, but not having at least a headboard has always made our bedroom look more makeshift to me than anything else in our hodgepodge of a home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our house is furnished with 99% hand-me-down furniture, and a few select home-made items thanks to the Hubby's woodworking capabilities.  The only furniture in our house that we have actually picked out and purchased is the two couches in our living room.  Everything else, besides four bookshelves, and my worktable-top is "inherited" which means that my mother in law decided sometime in the past thirteen years that she didn't want or need it anymore, so it showed up in our house. The hand-me-downs are really not bad- they are usually good enough quality, though they are usually a couple of decades old at least, and they show it aesthetically...  not to mention that they &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;usually&lt;/span&gt; don't quite fit our needs exactly, so they are only about 50%-70% useful for their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;assignments&lt;/span&gt; in our house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Added to that is the fact that we rent an old house which was obviously owned by deranged do-it-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;yourselfers&lt;/span&gt; with little need for closets, so we end up having to find jury-rigged solutions for issues such as no coat closet (that's the easiest solution- though hanging the coats on hooks by the back door means that I need to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Febreeze&lt;/span&gt; my coats after any cooking involving breakfast meats or onions) or no Linen storage anywhere, or no closet at all in the largest bedroom in the house.  And the fact that we rent means that we don't want to really fix these problems for the owners and contribute to someone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;else's&lt;/span&gt; bottom-line instead of our own..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day soon I'll get to grow up all the way and buy a house and make it perfect for us, but in the meantime, I think I have some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;re-purposing&lt;/span&gt; to do...&lt;img src="file:///C:/Users/AMANDA%7E1/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-3149716527161536220?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/3149716527161536220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=3149716527161536220' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/3149716527161536220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/3149716527161536220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/01/lust.html' title='Lust'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-1381007546257297402</id><published>2009-01-19T09:40:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T10:13:50.173-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='about me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lists'/><title type='text'>A little diversion</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Here's a little list of questions I felt like answering after seeing it on a blog- feel free to respond in the comments with your own list of answers to these questions!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. 3 living things you treasure&lt;/p&gt;My Parents and Sisters&lt;br /&gt;My Hubby&lt;br /&gt;My Daughter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. 3  non-living things that you treasure&lt;/p&gt;Painting my dad put me in 'cause it was my (11&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;?)birthday.&lt;br /&gt;Ceramic Christmas tree that was Jason's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Grandmom's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Box my dad made and painted for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. favorite time of the year and why&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fall- I love the crisp weather, the changing colors, the leaves on the ground, wearing jeans and sweaters but not a coat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. favorite things to wear&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;JEANS, Sweaters, my Fluffy White cotton-terry robe, my awesome &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Clarks&lt;/span&gt; slippers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5. are you a perfume wearer ? If yes, which one? / top 3 favorite smells&lt;/p&gt;Summer: Demeter Honeysuckle&lt;br /&gt;Winter: Calvin Klein Contradiction&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;6. favorite animal&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Don't really have a favorite animal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;7. top three events in your life(so far)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Marrying my Hubby (12 years ago!  wow!)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Birth of my Daughter&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Don't have a third one that rates as high as the other two yet...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;8. top three favorite small pleasures&lt;/p&gt;Long, Hot Showers&lt;br /&gt;A good book that I can't put down&lt;br /&gt;Shrimp&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;9. top 3 favorite places in the world( you have visited or would like to visit)&lt;/p&gt;I would like to visit too many places to list-  I want to see the whole world!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;10. top 3 favorite sounds&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Birds Chirping&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The soft quiet of a snowy/snowing night&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Water sounds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;11. top 3 favorite things to eat&lt;/p&gt;Hubby's Homemade "Awesome Bread" with olive oil and herbs dip&lt;br /&gt;a really good &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Caesar&lt;/span&gt; salad&lt;br /&gt;Cheesecake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;12. 3 favorite favorites right now! (from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;etsy&lt;/span&gt; or elsewhere)&lt;/p&gt;cloche hats&lt;br /&gt;cuddly sweaters&lt;br /&gt;big cozy afghans (can you tell it's winter??)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;13. 3 small ways someone has made your day lately&lt;/p&gt;The Wig supervisor on Happy Days saying he was hoping to get to work with me again.&lt;br /&gt;Jason cleaned the Kitchen last night.&lt;br /&gt;Sam cuddled with me this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;14. 3 small habits/quirks you have that make you specifically you!&lt;/p&gt;I am contrary- I don't like to be predictable/ I am not interested in mainstream.&lt;br /&gt;I am sassy- you know I'm comfortable around you when I start ribbing/sassing you.&lt;br /&gt;I am unfailingly optimistic- I will always spin a situation to the positive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-1381007546257297402?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/1381007546257297402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=1381007546257297402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/1381007546257297402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/1381007546257297402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2009/01/little-diversion.html' title='A little diversion'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-3911332358711582115</id><published>2008-12-30T12:26:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T13:28:53.761-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Recovery</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ErFzEiK16w0/SVpyLn3lC4I/AAAAAAAAABg/O0ZerdgfI8s/s1600-h/100_2088.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ErFzEiK16w0/SVpyLn3lC4I/AAAAAAAAABg/O0ZerdgfI8s/s320/100_2088.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285662656678923138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boxes went out in the trash today, the stockings are empty and now being used as "slippers" by the girl, and I have read most of my operating instructions for the gadgets I received...  It's beginning to feel like New Year's Eve!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As if the girl's gift pile wasn't big enough, Grandma and Grandpa (Hubby's Parents) arrived Christmas morning bearing at least as many gifts for the girl as we had for her.  I think toward the end she started wishing that Santa would conserve wrapping paper- 'cause the &lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;unwrapping became less and less enthusiastic as she got towards the end.  We survived the day, and I did no cooking or cleaning  and stayed in my Pajamas ALL DAY!  I didn't even put on a Bra- which tells you how little gave a crap about apperances.  Upon hearing this report, a coworker exclaimed " Do you EVER do ANYTHING????!!!!!"  I think she was offended that all these years she has been a traditional wife and mom and grandma, slaving over every holiday with no appreciation or thanks-  and here I am RELAXING with In-Laws, and Husband AND a daughter in the house.  HOW DARE I??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ErFzEiK16w0/SVpylhzC2bI/AAAAAAAAABo/pE1MvCgZpjE/s1600-h/PC250062.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ErFzEiK16w0/SVpylhzC2bI/AAAAAAAAABo/pE1MvCgZpjE/s320/PC250062.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285663101725890994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, I slacked on the traditional neurotic compulsive busybody stereotype and I don't care one bit.  For all I cared, I would have spent christmas day munching on the shredded gift wrap if no one else decided to eat food and make enough for everyone.  That would not have bothered me at all- though Sam and Grandpa might have needed a bit more sustenance after their headbanded interpretive dance...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I discovered that I am getting WAY over the whole "let's freak out and do what the rest of the world is doing because it's a HOLIDAY" mentality.  It goes along with accepting that my life will never let me have a peaceful holiday off.  At least not as long as I'm in "showbusiness" as a career.  So I slacked on Christmas day and let the Hubby make Blueberry pancakes and the Mother in law dry out the ham and forget to salt the potatoes.  HA!  See?  No guilt!  Nee-ner-nee-ner-neeeee-nerrrr!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   We don't have any plans for New Years Eve- and that is also fine with me.  I made the mistake of leaving the house today  with the Girl, and ended up hissing at her in the grocery&lt;br /&gt;store-  we are so much happier when I get to stay in the house!  We do have plans to go out for a grown-up night of dinner and ( i hope) a movie on our upcoming 12-year anniversary, but movies are always difficult for me to remain kind through- I'm so used to watching plays in a sparsely populated theatre during dress rehearsals that the other people with their crunchy popcorn and commentaries make my ears steam like in the cartoons...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The new year has made me a bit reflective- the year has gone by so quickly, and it has really been a great year for all of us.  I am looking forward to the new year (AND THE NEW PRESIDENT!!!) and hope that your new year is joyful and full of hope!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-3911332358711582115?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/3911332358711582115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=3911332358711582115' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/3911332358711582115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/3911332358711582115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2008/12/recovery.html' title='Recovery'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ErFzEiK16w0/SVpyLn3lC4I/AAAAAAAAABg/O0ZerdgfI8s/s72-c/100_2088.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-2145430306554371938</id><published>2008-12-25T01:44:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T02:01:19.569-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas coma</title><content type='html'>Yes, dear internets, it is almost 3am Christmas morning and I am writing a blog...  We finished the wrapping of many many presents just an hour ago, and now I am finishing up my white russian and having a chip or three while Bruce Almighty realizes that being God 'aint all that.  I tried to be a good little Unclutterer disciple this year, but I just have to accept that it is extra-hard being reasonable in Toys-R-Us when you only have one wide-eyed Child to buy presents for.  I thought I was doing well, until I got all her presents out of the bags and into a stack of to-be-wrapped Christmas joy.  Insane.  Total insanity.  Insano-rama.  We actually put some of the gifts back in the shopping bag to be dispensed at future gift-giving opportunities.  There are only so many gifts a four year old can digest in one morning, and I'd say that even after we put some back, she'll be busy "digesting" for the next week.  I also bought Hubby a few things, and though I haven't really peeked, I know he bought me a few things.  The wrapping took on new seriousness this year for me though- I considered just leaving her gifts out on a couch-cushion like a giant store display, but I just love the unwrapping part.  So, Santa had his own wrapping paper so as not to give away that I am Santa.  I know she wouldn't notice for another year or four, but just in case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that you all have a wonderful Christmas day filled with joy and family and at least one nap!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Christmas!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-2145430306554371938?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/2145430306554371938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=2145430306554371938' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/2145430306554371938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/2145430306554371938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2008/12/yes-dear-internets-it-is-almost-3am.html' title='Christmas coma'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-9179397806019865631</id><published>2008-12-21T22:22:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T22:58:24.412-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Here we are, mere Days from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Christmas&lt;/span&gt;, and I feel like I've been hiding in a darkened room for a month and a half...  oh, wait- I have been in a dark room for a month and a half, the first two weeks in a basement (which, though technically not dark, was definitely without any hint of natural light) and the rest backstage, lit by blue light and sequin-flashes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't say I have not felt the Christmas spirit- one tends to get a lot of Christmas spirit when working a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Christmas&lt;/span&gt; show- but I have definitely already felt my share of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Christmas&lt;/span&gt; spirit by listening to people who have come to feel like family performing the same twenty-or-so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Christmas&lt;/span&gt; ditties for 23 performances over 15 days.  We have three performances left before we roll up the dance floor, literally and figuratively, and move on to the rest of the new year that we call "life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We just put the decorations on the Christmas tree before sending the girl off to bed at her new show-friendly bedtime of 11pm and now I sit here at my computer feeling a little nostalgic for the years of my life when Christmas meant getting to slow down.  My life as a Costumer/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Wardrober&lt;/span&gt; is more fulfilling- especially due to the fact that no one gets to force me to do Algebra or take Gym, but there is something to be said for being off work with the rest of the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like the best way to convey my schedule is to tell you to imagine that you are an accountant, and put Tax season in December, along with Christmas.  That is my typical Christmas season these days.  I work for all but four hours between the hours of 9am and 11pm,Tuesday through Sunday, and two of them I spend buying fast food and eating it. Monday is the day I only work 8 hours...That is the most literal picture of my November and December that I can give you.  All the while coordinating schedules for naps and  dropping off the girl at the grandparents' house for (thank God) free daycare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All three of us are in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Yuletide&lt;/span&gt; this year ( or rather, they are onstage and I am backstage for it) so at least that means that I get to see the hubby and the girl for about 30 minutes over the course of my work day, so that at least is a positive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent last Thursday away from the girl in order to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Christmas&lt;/span&gt; shopping done, and this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Monday&lt;/span&gt; I will spend the day before 3pm either cleaning or procrastinating cleaning since we are having the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;in laws&lt;/span&gt; over to our house for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Christmas&lt;/span&gt;... and even though it means I have to clean like mad, at least I can sit on my couch for the first time in a month and a half!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite all this, I am thankful for all that this year has brought me, and I will spend a great &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Christmas&lt;/span&gt; day relaxing in my slippers and thinking of the blessings this year.  I hope no less for all of you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Christmas, and here's to an unbelievably fabulous 2009!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-9179397806019865631?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/9179397806019865631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=9179397806019865631' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/9179397806019865631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/9179397806019865631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2008/12/here-we-are-mere-days-from-christmas.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-1872289364914988518</id><published>2008-12-04T09:04:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T09:15:15.381-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Light at the end...</title><content type='html'>I am so close to the "easy" part of December that I can taste it!  As of Opening on Friday night, I am down to just showing up to work the show at the Symphony.  Hubs and The Girl had their stage-debut last night at the dress rehearsal of Act II, and I was trying so hard to peek at The Girl that I forgot to peek at Hubs' butt- that's my little backstage tradition from the previous two years, so when they ran it again, I made sure to peek!  Wouldn't want  Hubs to feel left out! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Girl did smashingly- luckily her co-kid onstage is 6 years older, so she has a coach of sorts right at her side.  But I was nervous that she would notice all the people watching her and decide it was the perfect venue to do a little soft-shoe for her fans. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we will live in the theatre until December 23rd, at which point we'll stumble out into the christmas eve-eve night with sore feet and bags under our eyes and stockings full of secret santa gifts, and then go home and sleep.  alot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope our cats do the dishes while we're gone...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-1872289364914988518?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/1872289364914988518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=1872289364914988518' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/1872289364914988518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/1872289364914988518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2008/12/light-at-end.html' title='Light at the end...'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-3513403195624363156</id><published>2008-12-01T09:35:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T10:27:13.176-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='exercise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='knitting'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, the YMCA has petered off a bit due to 12-hour workdays and a thanksgiving trip home, but I am not yet defeated.  I am still hoping to get there at least twice this week in spite of the head-cold that is threatening to take full residence in my sinus cavities.  I have been to the Starbucks on my work-block a few times, but have only had two small &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;GingerSNAP&lt;/span&gt; lattes- I guess it's important to jazz up the product name every four or five years- they are still yummy and evil.  I have not given in to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Dunkin&lt;/span&gt;' donuts at all, and am even feeling relatively sane about life in general. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have felt a couple of steps behind the rest of the world all year, and am finally feeling like I'm on-target.  I took a couple of nights before I left for thanksgiving to get some procrastinated work out of the way, and I am always surprised how cranky a procrastinated project can make me- and how free I feel once I finally force myself to hammer it out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my knitting education, I have learned the Knit stitch, and am just doing that over and over on my needles- it's become familiar, and I hope to move on to new stitches when I have more time to fill once Yuletide opens.  I've decided that I'm going to keep all my learning stitches as a sort of Sampler-scarf.  The Girl is excited about having this scarf, and keeps asking to touch it and hold it.  I figure she can have it when I'm done, and since its not perfect by any means, I won't care how she decides to use it or not use it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My teaching job is coming to an end, and I will be sad to see the money go, but glad to have my Mondays back.  All that's left after today is the grading and grading and grading. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My thanksgiving trip was a nice break in the middle of Yuletide- which is usually a tiring and busy time for me.  I was only home for about 50 hours all together, but my family really recharged me, and it was good to see my Dad on the mend from his very recent heart surgery.  He is not completely unaffected, but certainly still himself.  I don't know what I expected to find, but my relief at seeing him  is an indication that I imagined he would be worse off than he is.  It is sad that it takes a big medical event to make you introspective, but we are all seeing each other a bit more clearly and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;with more acceptance&lt;/span&gt; than we had in recent years.  I hope that mine and hubby's newer family can age as well and grow as close as my parents and sisters and I have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am feeling introspective and hopeful these days, and that is a good way to spend a 1 1/2 hour drive in the snow, yes?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-3513403195624363156?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/3513403195624363156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=3513403195624363156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/3513403195624363156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/3513403195624363156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2008/12/well-ymca-has-petered-off-bit-due-to-12.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-8725436777746772712</id><published>2008-11-14T20:36:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T21:07:25.366-06:00</updated><title type='text'>anyone ever notice the word "Die" is 3/4's of the word "Diet"???</title><content type='html'>Back in high school I decided that I would never go on a "diet."  It was somewhere between a comment about my sister not wanting to lend me a shirt 'cause "You'll stretch it out!!" and my mom saying how I looked so good "...You have a waist now!" after I had dropped a few pounds completely by accident.   I am just a contrary person, and I refused to let those comments convince me that culinary torture was ever a good idea.  (I do want to say, I would have stretched out my sister's shirt, had she let me wear it, and my mom truly thought she was complimenting me.  I feel the need to defend them because I know my family has always loved me and never meant to judge- I hope).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am thinking of these things lately, because I am 3 weeks into a YMCA membership that I have been faithfully using, and am determined to keep using.  I am focusing on getting in shape, rather than being another woman who goes to the gym to lose weight and then begins stressing when her weight increases due to adding muscle.  I haven't even weighed myself at all since I started going.  More than anything, I want my heart not to freak out when I have to run up and down a set or three of stairs when someone forgot a piece of their costume during a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;quick change&lt;/span&gt;.  I want to be able to know that I am heading off the overweight/unhappy, anti-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;exercise&lt;/span&gt; fate of some of the older women in my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only catch is that I seem to be eating more junk than before, now that I am working out at least twice a week.  I know, twice isn't much, but it's my minimum.  If I make it three times, the hubby is required to literally pat me on the back.  I am taking baby steps, not giant leaps and am seeing the results already.  No, I'm not in a smaller size of pants, no, my waist isn't whittling at all that I can tell, but the treadmill practically had to walk me up a 90 degree cliff today to get my heart up to 80% of the maximum heart rate for my weight and age.  I had to speed the thing up just to get it to let me walk on a steep-hill incline.  I even considered hitting the "jog" speed button (4MPH) but I'm still a little afraid of that- plus I haven't bought any sports bras yet, and that is definitely a prerequisite before you'll get these 38 F's a-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;runnin&lt;/span&gt;'!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So back to the Junk food topic.  I am normally pretty conscientious when it comes to choosing wisely and attempting to eat food that will work for me instead of against me.  If I know I'm going into a stretch of work which will eat up my life, I make a point to stock up on food and snacks that will get me through the day with the minimum of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;junk&lt;/span&gt; food.  But right now, for some reason (and I'm not saying it isn't PMS) I am eating horribly.  I am spending my energy planning when I will get to the gym instead of what will I make for dinner, so dinner ends up being ordered/bought or scrounged.  I will not deny that the girl and I ate my fabulous &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Parmesan&lt;/span&gt;-popcorn for dinner one night this month.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my defense, I will say that I have noticed how AWFUL junk food tastes right after I have worked out- that's when I crave Sushi.  Perhaps the answer is to work out three times a day so that the junk food always tastes bad when it comes time to eat, or maybe I should just drop by that sushi place that's so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;conveniently&lt;/span&gt; on the way home from the YMCA. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am heading into a longer stretch of work beginning &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Monday&lt;/span&gt;, and I have stocked up on my Naked Juice, oranges and bananas, nuts and carrots, so now the only challenge is resisting the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Dunkin&lt;/span&gt;' donuts and Starbucks (gingerbread latte) that are literally attached to the building in which I am working...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-8725436777746772712?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/8725436777746772712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=8725436777746772712' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/8725436777746772712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/8725436777746772712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2008/11/anyone-ever-notice-word-die-is-34s-of.html' title='anyone ever notice the word &quot;Die&quot; is 3/4&apos;s of the word &quot;Diet&quot;???'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-3230353298486551232</id><published>2008-11-08T09:01:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T10:28:47.105-06:00</updated><title type='text'>So here's a flaw for ya!</title><content type='html'>Apparently, I don't blog whether I'm busy or not, or perhaps it's more truthful to say that the not blogging when I'm busy makes me feel guilty enough not to blog at all when I'm not "Busy"- by which I men when I'm working on a show/project.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blah blah blah on to some real content!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been visiting a website that is inspiring me in a way that scares the Hubs. It is &lt;a href="http://www.unclutterer.com/"&gt;http://www.unclutterer.com/&lt;/a&gt; and I wish that I had a team of cleaners/movers who could come over for a week or two and tackle my house with me one room at a time. I would love to remove every item from my house and re-think the whole shebang. I feel like I spend far too much of my off-time either shuffling clutter around or procrastinating on shuffling clutter around. I work for two weeks, and then wake up on my first day off and have to transport a waist-high mountain of laundry to the basement, and do the dishes in shifts, and pick up all my daughter's books and movies off of the floor in front of her bookshelves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I do not mean to say that the Hubs does nothing around here- he does. It's just that we both have a certain level of tolerance for things-left-undone, and between the two of us, we can let things get backed up to the point where it takes a concentrated effort and a weekend to catch up on it... And if that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ooks&lt;/span&gt; you out, then just keep it to yourself. At least I'm owning this for everyone to see!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while I dream of sparkly floors, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;glinty&lt;/span&gt; cleanness, My time "off" wanes. I am starting the next show on the 17&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; and then it's back to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ol&lt;/span&gt;' pile it up and leave routine around here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I never did get a break come September 13&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; when my last show opened.  I got a job teaching a class at my Graduate Alma Mater and have been doing that every &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;monday&lt;/span&gt; since the beginning of august.  It is a challenge, but I do think it's testing my teaching ability and refining it.  So that's good.  But I'm still driving that 120 miles every &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;monday&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I have a new toy.  All this nonstop working has earned me the right to buy my own laptop.  My very first non-hand-me-down laptop.  At 34 years old.  Hubs is the one with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;bazilliobites&lt;/span&gt; of info to manage on his computer, so he has always been the one to upgrade and I have always inherited his computers when they became too small for his large brain.  Now, I have my very own laptop which I researched and comparison-shopped and said the final "yes" on.  I feel so grown up and stuff. So now I am trying to keep the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;decluttering&lt;/span&gt; trend going on my desk.  And so far so good -I have a couple of empty drawers, and an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;obsessive&lt;/span&gt; habit of checking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Craigslist&lt;/span&gt; for a new, more streamlined desk that I love enough to put in my living room.  No luck on that yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, one week left before I have to rejoin the costume-force, and I'd better stop blogging today and get to doing.  First, wash face and put on clothes;  Second, go to library (as promised to the Girl); third, go the Y to workout; fourth- I don't really have that step yet, but there's a mountain of laundry in the hall upstairs and a work-table full of stuff in my workroom that needs to find it's home once again...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-3230353298486551232?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/3230353298486551232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=3230353298486551232' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/3230353298486551232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/3230353298486551232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2008/11/so-heres-flaw-for-ya.html' title='So here&apos;s a flaw for ya!'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-1995905002027755271</id><published>2008-08-25T16:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T17:05:52.419-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dog Days</title><content type='html'>"It's been a haaaard Daaay's Night/ And I've been working like a doooog."  so say the Beatles and so say I.  I should actually be working right now instead of writing this post for my seemingly-defunct Blog, but alas, procrastination is a very easy thing to do.  (  I should even be cooking dinner, but I'm considering asking the Hubs if we can go out/order in).  If I were someone else looking at me, I'd call myself "'Lazy McSlotherton" or something equally clever yet insulting.  I've had some excitement in the last month or two, and even a "vacation"- though it was spent trying to ignore the To-Do list and a bunch of sneaky stress that left me sobbing in a back room at the vacation house one night.  I don't often lose my grip on  The Cool, but when I do, I'm gone for awhile before I can re-join life.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So its been a summer full of work, stress, procrastination and accomplishment, and I am just aiming for September 13th right now.  That's the day that my latest show opens, and I can turn it over to the Wardrobe Supervisor and saunter into the sunset...  towards the next due date.  I feel like I should know by now that life is a series of choices followed by due dates, but I can't help but feel there's got to be more to life than working/earning.  I've always felt that way acutally.  My firmest belief is that you have to do what you love.  The End. No qualifications.  I do believe that I am following that, but I feel a bit clouded and pulled in opposite directions lately, and I keep finding myself wishing that I could have a month to myself to hang out with my daughter, cook dinner and make sure the laundry's done, and then somewhere in there I might get some time to feed my creativity.  yep- Drained is the right word.  So, the new Crusade has a title now.  Onward and upward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that you all made it through the summer (and this post!)with more joy than pain, and I will keep regaling you with the inane details of my psyche served with a generous sprinkle of Penzey's Special Extra-bold India Peppercorns, freshly ground, of course!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-1995905002027755271?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/1995905002027755271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=1995905002027755271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/1995905002027755271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/1995905002027755271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2008/08/dog-days.html' title='The Dog Days'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-8844877820546368083</id><published>2008-07-29T16:00:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T17:06:11.651-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hubby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Unclutter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mommy-blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='in-laws'/><title type='text'>uncluttering</title><content type='html'>I have been on a mission to unclutter my house since approximately a year ago. Well, to be truthful, I have &lt;em&gt;wanted &lt;/em&gt;to unclutter since I had my daughter- that would be (almost) four years ago. What I may have attributed to the nesting instinct of pregnancy back then, I now am embracing as the way I just plain want to live my life. I want to be prefectly clear though- I only need to unclutter because I am blessed with the people in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example: My Husband loves to cook. This is great because I can count on at least one if not two weekend made-from-scratch breakfasts, plus a pinch-hitter with some good fast recipes when I've had a day that just makes me want to check out of my life by noon. The part where his presence means that I have uncluttering to do mainly has to do with the fridge. My husband cooks in quantities better suited to a boat full of hungry lumberjacks... why these lumberjacks are on a boat, I just don't know. Nonetheless, the Blueberry pancakes are stacked so high that all three of us can usually eat at least two gut-busting breakfasts, the Chicken Curry leftovers overflow more than three Gladware entree containers after we have finished stuffing ourselves until our sweat comes out yellow...and these are only two of his many specialities. So every time I go on a good re-stocking type of grocery trip, I have to purge the dead leftovers out of the fridge. You see, I generally don't eat leftovers. Hubby delights in having enough dinner left to take to work for lunches for a week solid- and usually does. but when those leftovers get pushed back behind the pickles or the eggs, well, you know what they look like when they are finally unearthed. I just pulled 12 gladware containers out of our fridge containing various amounts of leftovers- both recognizeable and unrecognizeable. Usually these fridge purges mean a whole sinkful of smelly gladware that I have to put my hands on. ick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's my mother-in-law. Good fortune, lots of free time and a roving eye for a clearance rack on her part mean that I have to organize and find a place in my home for a stack of scrapbooking supplies that is literally as tall as I am ( that's 5'6" in case you're wondering). I am a crafty gal, and being a costume designer, have an eye for design and an affinity for creating things. However, I have never made (or even begun to attempt to make) a scrapbook page in my whole crafty life. I did tell her several years ago that I thought I might be ready to try it, but I never did try it after all- not even when large boxes began arriving bi-weekly in the mail from her home several states away, lovingly packed full of the scrapbooking supplies she has been buying for me and keeping since practically the moment Hubby and I said "I Do." Just thinking about all the die-cuts and stickers and sayings and eyelets and ribbons and decorative-edged scissors makes me want to take a nap. I began to put this stuff in a garage sale earlier this summer, but then I got stopped by the voice-of-the-devil in my head that said "...But this stuff COSTS SO MUCH!" So now the whole of it is stacked neatly in my dining room where we walk around it and vacuum around it and occasionally stub our toes on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's me. I am a piler. I am also plagued with what I call the "Later Syndrome." This is the uncanny ability to put off even a flick-of-the-wrist in favor of a nap or a leisurely read. The majority of my immediate family is plagued with this, and I am perhaps the vice-president of our club. (Maybe I'm even the president, for all the hours I log to this syndrome, but I surely hope not.) I will make a careful pile of junk mail for a week or three before shredding it all. I will actually clean the house in order to put off work that is due for some looming deadline. My desk is perpetually stacked with several inches of "to be filed" papers and note paper and hair elastics for my daughter. Sitting here, without moving my head, I can lay my eyes on last year's planner, three christmas CD cases ( no CD's inside) and an empty travel-size ibuprofen container... ON MY EVERYDAY WORKDESK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been making an admirable effort to unclutter, though. I have gone through my clothing and gotten rid of all items that are too small or too beat-up for public use. I have purged my shoes down to (almost) only the ones that fit and make sense in my life as it is right now. I have put all our ragged towels into the "Rag Bag" in the basement and thrown out ALL of the expired lotions, medications, and freebies-I'll-never-use. I even went through the basement itself- cleaning, organizing, throwing away stuff and threatening to get rid of my daughter's 3 1/2 years of outgrown clothes and shoes. I have even gone through our bookshelves and purged half of the books we had out. I haven't gotted rid of them yet, though- that will take more willpower than I have mustered so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now for my latest uncluttering. I started another blog when I started this one. the rationale being that I didn't want this to be a "mommy-blog." Well, what happened since then (besides alot of work that kept me busy) is that I would get an idea for a blog and think about posting it, and maybe even write a line or three, but I would never finish it because I then felt guilty about not giving the other blog as much attention, so then I would just go and take a nap or read a book or pout while I had another white russian. (Later Syndrome again!) So I have decided that I am going to condense the two into one. This one. Those who would label this a mommy-blog because there are some blogs on it about my daughter's shenanigans will just have to deal. I am many things to many people, and "mommy" is just one of those. I hope to get more design-centric content going on here, but in the end I refuse to just aimlessly search the internet just to find content for a design site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope this means I write more often, and I hope that you all still find what you came here for.&lt;br /&gt;Now, on to cleaning this desk...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-8844877820546368083?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/8844877820546368083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=8844877820546368083' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/8844877820546368083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/8844877820546368083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2008/07/uncluttering.html' title='uncluttering'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-6485482786895587632</id><published>2008-06-28T23:12:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T00:12:31.869-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mama got a new pair of shoes!</title><content type='html'>So, it has been a week or three.... Welcome back to me! I am in the throes of loathing and passion that is known as "one Week before Dress Rehearsal" on my latest show, and that is the only excuse I have for not being more present. I drive 120-ish miles each day that I go to the Costume shop for fittings or to stock to try to squeeze the proverbial water out of the proverbial rock of Costume Stock to attempt to stay within my show budget. More often it's more like wrestling with 200+ suits of a given color/style crammed into three feet of space in a room which has not been air-conditioned (or left open to air out) for 20+ years. Needless to say, there is a lot of sweat and gas-money involved in this enterprise. I can spare the sweat- it's the gas- money that really hurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Among the least-favorites of putting a show together is the "I-need-to-walk-ALL-DAY-but-would-prefer-to-have-well-supported-yet-cool-feet" dilemma. I always turn to my Nike crosstrainers in situations like these, but I know there's a better answer, and I have been determined to find it. In my line of work, a shoe MUST support, and if it looks cute at the same time, then you are truly a lucky person. Luckily for me (and unluckily for my bank account) my search for the perfect costume item takes me into any and all retail stores in a 80-mile radius from my house and/or costume shop. So, upon finding myself at a DSW (Designer Shoe Warehouse for those who have not encountered said shoe-mecca) I look for the shoes I need for the show and then reward myself with 30-45 minutes of looking for shoes for myself. By this point my feet- though well supported, feel as though they are being cooked in a pizza oven and this is when I am at my weakest- I know I am SO CLOSE to the Walking Shoes of God... all I need to do is seek and I shall find.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did find!! I hope. I bought a pair of sandal-y sneaker-y shoes made by Tsubo- a brand I have never before encountered, but look respectable, supportive and COOL! Link shows the closest pic I could find online...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/TSUBO-Tsubo-Orbic-Sandal/dp/B000Q6EIVA"&gt;http://www.amazon.com/TSUBO-Tsubo-Orbic-Sandal/dp/B000Q6EIVA&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onclick="return amz_js_PopWin(this.href,'AmazonHelp','width=700,height=600,resizable=1,scrollbars=1,toolbar=0,status=1');" href="http://www.amazon.com/Tsubo-Little-Kid-Orbic-Sandal/dp/images/B000Q6EIVA/ref=dp_image_z_x_0?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=apparel&amp;amp;img=0&amp;amp;color%5Fname=x" target="AmazonHelp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onclick="return amz_js_PopWin(this.href,'AmazonHelp','width=700,height=600,resizable=1,scrollbars=1,toolbar=0,status=1');" href="http://www.amazon.com/Tsubo-Little-Kid-Orbic-Sandal/dp/images/B000Q6EIVA/ref=dp_image_z_x_0?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=apparel&amp;amp;img=0&amp;amp;color%5Fname=x" target="AmazonHelp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onclick="return amz_js_PopWin(this.href,'AmazonHelp','width=700,height=600,resizable=1,scrollbars=1,toolbar=0,status=1');" href="http://www.amazon.com/Tsubo-Little-Kid-Orbic-Sandal/dp/images/B000Q6EIVA/ref=dp_image_z_x_0?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=apparel&amp;amp;img=0&amp;amp;color%5Fname=x" target="AmazonHelp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onclick="return amz_js_PopWin(this.href,'AmazonHelp','width=700,height=600,resizable=1,scrollbars=1,toolbar=0,status=1');" href="http://www.amazon.com/Tsubo-Little-Kid-Orbic-Sandal/dp/images/B000Q6EIVA/ref=dp_image_z_x_0?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=apparel&amp;amp;img=0&amp;amp;color%5Fname=x" target="AmazonHelp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought them in a neutral slate color with kicks of teal and I can't wait to give them the ol' 12hour shopping trip test. (Well, I'd be perfectly happy not running that test for a full 12 hours, but usually by hour five you know if you're doomed.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO we shall see if my new shoes are the answers to my prayers, or just another pair in closet. in the meantime, stay tuned!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-6485482786895587632?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/6485482786895587632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=6485482786895587632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/6485482786895587632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/6485482786895587632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2008/06/so-it-has-been-week-or-three.html' title='Mama got a new pair of shoes!'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-2493363681107267339</id><published>2008-06-12T22:28:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T22:32:49.267-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny blogs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='laugh'/><title type='text'>HAHAHA!!  *snorts*</title><content type='html'>Just read the product of a truly talented or messed-up mind over at &lt;a href="http://www.knowledgeforthirst.com/"&gt;http://www.knowledgeforthirst.com/&lt;/a&gt;  I laughed (and snorted) so much that I expected my hubby to tell me to shut up.  I will go back for more. And I may have to try SmartWater now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-2493363681107267339?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/2493363681107267339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=2493363681107267339' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/2493363681107267339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/2493363681107267339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2008/06/hahaha-snorts.html' title='HAHAHA!!  *snorts*'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76737068868259292.post-305765148437733642</id><published>2008-06-11T14:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T14:14:57.256-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='handbags'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Decluttering'/><title type='text'>So many inspirations, So little time</title><content type='html'>I have been spending alot of time following links on my favorite websites lately, and I am just itching to create.  I am about to begin the intensive phase of my latest Costume Design, and so I end up sitting on the couch doing nothing instead of up in my fabulous workroom being industrious.  Part of the problem is that I have so many projects floating around inside my head that I just can't decide what to do first.  I need to switch my procrastination technique from manic cleaning, to manic crafting.  You can always tell when I have "work" looming because suddenly it is very important that I sort through all the old figure drawings in that under-bed box, or Hubby walks in to find me scrubbing something with my pink cleaning-toothbrush.  So I am going to start small and say that the first thing I am going to start is a small wrist-bag that will hold my essentials. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summer always inspires me to streamline- my beauty routine, my hair, my clothes, my house...and my purse.  All that extra just makes me hotter when the temperature climbs above 70 degrees.  So I will begin with my purse (and I've already cleaned out the basement, so I'm all fulfilled in the cleaning department for awhile).  I will post the progress here, of course, so stay tuned!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/76737068868259292-305765148437733642?l=costumista.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/feeds/305765148437733642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=76737068868259292&amp;postID=305765148437733642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/305765148437733642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/76737068868259292/posts/default/305765148437733642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://costumista.blogspot.com/2008/06/so-many-inspirations-so-little-time.html' title='So many inspirations, So little time'/><author><name>Amanda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13644383256708712027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
